Upon Mars.

*Spoiler*

The entry baton gets you also into places like the sealed lab and... The ancient crypt... There's lots and lots of fighting there if you want to.

Icewalls is being built and other modifications are taking place: http://members.webs.com/manageapp/blog/show/29978199-icewalls

Is there anything you'd like to comment about or see?

A big black Shade. Who wants to be strucked by lightning?

Began rewriting anew!

The Bridge is complete.

I find the title of the topic a bit provocative mind you, but yes, being a die hard fan of G1 I did find it fun, because it really puts you in a narrative similar to Avernum´s ( a naturalist veiw point) with a hint of Plato's philosophical myths.

Two more stories have been released. Good reading.

Birds underground.

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/24784930-birds-underground

The drake and the tree.

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/24784911-the-drake-and-the-tree

Hoping to read scorpion Soup by Tahir Shah but instead I read psychology articles: Allport and Postman on rumor, jackobson on communication and hierarchy, Weiner on feedback, Heider's theory on consistence, Shanon and Weaver on communication, Bateson and Wazlawick and Anzieu and Martin on motivations In communication.

Frenet branca any time.

It's annoying being 20 and having friends who are all 21. Some day, some day...

Since when running with a machette is considered an viable option? Toss In a little boy.

Three "avernumesque" shorts stories on my site have been released on the net and here's one of them entitled δρaκεῖν:

 

"

 

A Konundrum folk-tale:

 

One day In the caves of Konundrum, it came to pass that while a mage going out collecting tar from a tar pit not very far from his home he had made nearby a lake, met a hunting drake, with only hunger in it's mind.

 

When it came upon him, the mage released a magic globe out from his mind which then spilled, forming hither a stink cloud.

 

Although surprised at this sudden and primitive display of pyrotechnics, the monster blew the cloud away with a clap of wings and caught what could have been it´s next meal, had the sorceror not placed a blade on the drake's neck.

 

When the mage had slipped, his coin bag spilled, leaving gold upon the floor, which hypnotised the reptile: for drakes, semi-precious stones, gold and precious things is the stone floor on which they lay their obsessive mating rituals.

 

Snaking his way out into a deal, the drake offered to spare the mage for the gold.

 

Thinking it had the advantage, the reptile agreed to the mage's proposition: the mage would surrender the gold in a tar figure.

 

The mage started building a thick tar figure with clay and the tar from the nearby lake and tar-pit and painted it gold with melted coins.

 

After leaving the dragon at a reasonable distance from both the statue and himself, the sorceror bolted shut his hut's iron door and hid below the solid stone floor of his house in a tunnel of his own construction.

 

The dragon attacked the house.

 

Finding no human remains in the pyre it made of the mage's hut, the enraged dragon proceeded to take tar statue. But the more it sank it's claws into it, the more it was glued to the clay. For all the drake's might and strength, the statue over-powered him. The mage bided his time and once the drake was too weak a foe he slowly and surely pulled our dragon into the waters of the lake, to drowning.

 

 

All flames, be it power or anger, succumbs to it´s own rage.

I feel happy and enegerized when my dog wakes me up

Dramatic changes have been added to strengthen the plot; at peacefull vale Andras finds out that he contracted something lethal which consumes the host over time. Drawings have been added: http://www.freewebs.com/geneforgeremaker/apps/photos/album?albumid=14037541

Blah. Who's afraid to "misstep"? It's probably true that things are stricter here than they ever have been, but that's not entirely a bad thing. And besides, its not like the moderating team are monsters (although several ARE lizards...) and are going to ban the first person to do something a bit stupid. In fact, silly things that are also funny tend to go over here pretty well.

 

Obviously I'm not saying post with complete abandon, but if people are actually reluctant to post because they're scared of the response they'll get from the moderating team, I'd say that's a pretty big concern.

 

Us 20-somethings are busy people too, you know! We've (some of us) got jobs, and school, and a growing nostalgia that needs CONSTANT attention. Now get off my lawn.

I feel nostalgic for having loved and played countless hours on spiderwebsoftwere games during my childhood. It´s sad really.

And on the topic of internet users not wanting to post on the ground that they would make an absolute fool of themselves, well : relativeley clean boards, users you come to know (that's rare really), appreciate and love... how's that threatening?

As for The emperor Hawthorne... let´s state that we went half-life on him with a steel crowbar and crossbows. That may be the reason were presently keeping quiet.

Thirty white horses on a red hill, at first they champ, then they stamp and in the end stand still.

With pleasure, here's the beginning of the story:

Dear reader, my name is Almas Faris, and I have fought with the west for many years in the Gaza in 2001 strip or in Medina, or in Damascus when "they" where first to be seen, or yet again in Afghanistan in 2006, or in Syria against the Russians in 2012, or against the American soldiers when opened fire on me and my colleges in the province of Khost. I bear no ill will to the American people, although it known that many of their military, economy and politicians have caused great harm throughout the middle east.

 

I now live in Morocco. And the people have made me one of theirs; I can go unharmed into the markets and taste in a full bite those golden oranges Morocco is known for or cook some fish cut whole by the local fisherman. Sometimes I loose my self into the streets of Casablanca, and arrive in Dar Khalifa, without having my clothes stink with blood or the smell of ammonium sulphide in my lungs or the crackle of machine gun fire ringing in my head. Insomnia or flash-backs do not trouble me any more and I needn't stay days unwashed, culpable wearing the smell of urine, feet, sweat and cigarettes on my hands and trousers.

 

It all happened in Damascus. It was at the beginning of the year 2014. I know this because I had spent my time working in December at Medhina, where I spent hours eating alkum. You might also know how the date was important because it was when Frank Lamb, an undercover American soldier was tied up and threatened with death by a bunch of Syrian jihadists.

 

Obama was still president then and I had been taken in to fight against the Syrian regime. I had been in Damascus before, to fight the Russian troops who had concluded a pact with Assad's regime. My unit had been dismantled by Assad's men, but I managed to escape.

 

Things escalated pretty hard at the end of 2013 so I decided it was time to head back and help the Syrians during the purges of January 2014.

 

This is when things got worst.

 

An American soldier had crossed the border to Syria. It hadn’t been the only American lost in Syria during 2012-2015, a journalist James Foley had been abducted in 2012 at Aleppo. But this man was a soldier.

A group of Syrian rebels in order to push the Americans into Syria stole a careless soldier, tied him up and put him into their car.

 

Then I shot the driver when they arrived at Damascus.

 

I don't enjoy talking about what I did in Damascus, but at the time I hated some of the stupid behaviour exhibited by some of the rebels.

When one of them shot rounds at the locals because they believed that they had helped government forces, I did what I did.

 

When I had disposed of the bodies from the car from which the rebels had fired armour piercing rounds, I searched the car.

Opening the back of the car Frank Lamb fell out onto the hard dusty ground, attached and dizzy from both the heat the lack of water.

It had been a miracle that he survived and no one knew why he had been dragged here, although I personally suspect that the rebels didn't know as well.

 

This how I met the soldier held hostage and how he told me his story.

 

Frank hadn't always been a soldier. He had been a biologist student in the US studying clams and plants. When he got out of college, he got into more and more into debt, finding no job.

 

This was extremely difficult for his couple, and extremely so since he had discovered that he had been infertile.

 

"It seemed to be the lot of most people in the west" said he that people weren't either "interested or able in having children anymore".

 

"There no more future for us I guess".

 

It was from there that he tried a number of jobs from which he was fired, and then sank into deeper depression when he became a butcher.

 

From there he had tired to "meet" other women.

 

Then he stopped being a butcher and became a bin-man.

 

After two weeks of wondering how people could "continue living like this" producing so much trash and not "expecting that something would happen one day, he wanted to do something "really meaningful" like "serving his country" and "being a real man and learning about true fidelity".

 

This is how he became a private and how he got lost both depressed and drunk, wondering into Syrian terrain.

 

I for myself did not believe his story. I had thought that he was not what he had claimed to be, I could only see in him white westerner informer trying to get away with some valuable information.

 

And I was right.

The rest is going to be fully released on webs in two weeks or more.

Edit: a new short story about the Silmarillion has been released: all hail Angband! Sindarin songs are included.

The Following thread is about short-stories I have or am writing, three of which use swear-words. Otherwise the stories are written for an all-round audience. The stories due to format are likely to change, syntax and writing errors corrected. All of the stories are intended to have political, philosophical or/scientifical backgrounds, all of which are for the moment fictitious.

Have an interesting time reading.

-

I've been working on a two short stories project these last two days:

one with a bunch of deamon creatures called the Shed'im which spring up in today's middle east and seem to attack Western military forces without any motive whatsoever as it seems and an other one set in a world like Avernum, set in caves with monsters and dragons.

This plus work explains why I haven't been working on my geneforge project latley.

So to make amends (I hope) for this long wait here's a extract (the ending *Spoilers*) of the short story entitled Shed'im (which has and I warn you, some political resonnance) :

Like a dragon hungry for precious things, the Shed'im defended the oil fields with furious anger at those who would attempt to destroy them.

 

Like the West the Shed'im too had after all a need to lap oil into their great mouths, although their needs seemed at first modest unlike the West. Where drones missiles and helicopter had been a effective weapon against the Somalians, the Bedhu, both the Arabs and the Berber, the Afghans and the Pakistani, now seemed useless against these terrible griffin like creatures made of metal, which bore through aircrafts with fiery breath like jets of hot water thrown from above at paper planes.

Rocket fire and tanks seemed to stun them here and then, but once captured they simply destroyed the military bases in which they had been kept in and would regularly in retaliation sink with huge bolders costal Us warships.

 

On may 2014 a Shedu destroyed a israeli military base in Jordan, Efraim, near the Mughrabi Bridge to rescue one of it's own.

 

Word had been it had been that they were a terrible device invented by invading aliens, or the very cherubim with blades of flame sent by god to guard the garden of Eden or a secret weapon developed by Iran or to profit the Chinese because they where developing new strains of bio-fuels and other oil producing organisms which thrived both in deserts and salt water.

Nuclear strikes had been thought of, but the monsters did not invade western soil and preferred to stick by to the middle east.

 

In any rate the Shed'im where a reality that the West and the rest of the world had to live with: these monsters from bible myth dissuaded any more drastic military intervention from both the west and the east for a time, since no one knew when they would go to sleep again, but reduced dramatically the demand for middle eastern oil, the Shed'im patrolling above the oil fields, which stunted local and global economical growth, lead the USA to lead disastrous military campaigns in South America, and to the creation ten years later of a series of strong political alliances between Brazil, Venezuela and any country who had held Bolivar in high esteem.

People starved, countries collapsed, civil war broke in some parts of Europe, new forms of tyranny took over the west, especially in Europe, the world turned into an Marx brother's version of "Gattaca" without rockets being sent to touch the stars, and the UN in 2018 has finally declared that some "forms of human trafficking" such as "surrogacy by artificial insemination" are "a right to all" under the pressure of the Us, Russia, the Uk, China and France, but despite all this going on, on his deathbed, Frank still stood uncertain on whether or not things had truly changed:

 

The now 5th of November 2024 has come and Change is still the motto of the democratic party of the United States of America.

My father's love and friendship for the Shahs has led me to look up this guy. He's a fantastic writer and he has really good

Good luck!

It's true that humour is scarce, but there are some funny parts. I smiled with the servile merchant desperately trying to mate batons. You can see pens with batons lying around Also, if you ask him about his success in such harsh task, he just says a laconic "I think I'm having some success awakening the natural desires of thorn batons".

Buron's humour goes even further:

"- have you seen a boat?

-No."

[...]

"-There are traps, but a skilled being can pass them. As far as I know, these tunnels are the only way east in this area."

"You could also disarm the traps by walking on them." He laughs briefly. You suspect that that was his idea of a joke."

So did I on Heustess and on roamers.

I stubbed my toe.

 

This year is just looking grand so far.

 

[censored].

Poor thing. Well betadine, bandages and arnica montana for you.

Tombs is being made.

Peaceful Vale is still receiving modifications, here's a excerpt:

Peaceful vale was at a crossroads: it led to Wooded vale, to Freeplace, to the patrolled bridge by the outsiders and to Diazard.

Diazard was a heavily fortified outsider outpost which led westwards, to various forbidden crypts and to Junkyard.

South of Peaceful vale was the wooded valley which served as a defensive corridor to Pentil North.

East led to a fortified bridge which in turn led to the power plant, workshops and labs of the Shapers, which were a deterrent to all forms living things native or not, the land either spirited or poisoned.

And finally north of peaceful Vale was Freeplace which stood out murderously against the Sholai invaders.

A place of congregation for all serviles, Peaceful vale was where most creations came to benefit from two local sources of power, one free, given by a learned figure versed in teaching wisdom and contemplation, and the other was selling both brute magic and brawns.

Peaceful vale had a small farm nested neatly in sheets of thick woods filled with flowers, crowned by a crescent of rocky cliffs.

The small farm was operated by three small, serviles dressed in purple robes. One of them was very old, and it seemed like his years had taught him much.

As Andras approached, he looked up at him and smiled. His eyes were patient, clear and alert.

"Welcome, Shaper, I am glad you have found your way to my little home. I am Learned Darian. If you are one who can listen and hear, there is much I could teach you."

"What can you teach me?"

"I am honoured as a wise one by the three servile villages. All of them come to me, from time to time, for advice and to pass messages to the other sects. I know much of them. And I think, if you are wise, you will want to know of them too. And, perhaps, even ally with them." said the violet smelling servile.

"What sects are there?"

"There are the Awakened, in Vakkiri, the Obeyers, in Pentil, and the Takers, in Kazg.

All of them have come to and dealt with me, to try to coexist despite their differences. The Takers, however, have done so much less lately. They have found wisdom and power elsewhere."

"Why don't the Takers see you anymore?"

"I am wise, but I am not omnipotent. If they do not talk to me, I do not know what they think or do. Perhaps you can find out. I believe there are other powers on this island."

"Can you tell me more about the beliefs of the sects?"

"I will not do that. I only listen to their beliefs and carry their messages and, occasionally, provide a little advice. Go to them. They will be glad to tell you what they think."

"What if I want to ally myself with one of the sects? Can you put in a word on my behalf?"

"You can ask their leader. If what they have heard about your beliefs matches what they teach, they may offer you their friendship and assistance.

If, at some point, there is a group you wish to join, and they do not welcome you at first, I can put in a word on your behalf. I have some influence.

Do not be fickle, however. My influence is strong, but not unending. I will only be able to intercede on your behalf once."

"Perhaps, in time, I will find that their beliefs have wisdom?"

"A rock has weight, whether the Shapers think it should or not. I think you will find that the beliefs of my people are the same way: do you know about the story about the serviles wanting to put the sun on trail?"

The Shaper listened carefully.

"Well, there where these serviles who were so determined to put the sun on trail that they gathered round to meet the wisest of them all and said unto him: "We have a problem. Every day as we go west to work out in the fields the sun blinds us in the morning and when we come back home eastwards before dark, it blinds us again. Help us put the sun to trail." the wise man departs, saying that he will get their answer in the morning after having slept on it. The next morning the wise man is pressed again by the serviles. "Well" says the wise man "I have a solution; how about you set forth to your homes in the morning so that your backs may face the sun and go out in the fields in the afternoon so that you may not be troubled by the sun a second time?"

"Where did you get that story?" laughed the Shaper .

"Believe me or not the story was passed down from generation to generation by my ancestors since before the Shapers left the isle, which was fifteen generations ago I believe."

"Impossible!" retorted the Shaper.

"Impossible or not, you bore witness to a lesson of servile wisdom recorded on graffiti found on stone ruins near Kazg and recorded there by the Shapers[2] themselves two hundred years ago." down pinned Darian.

Canst thou put a rope into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a hook?

Will he make many pleas to you? Will he speak soft words unto thee?

Will he make a covenant with thee? Wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

Can you play with it like a pet bird? Or put it on a leash for the young women in your house?

Will traders barter for it? Will they divide it up among the merchants?

Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? Or his head with fish spears? ..."

[2] Bedoyere and Tanzer, Graffiti in Kazg.

Happy last year folks!

Bring it on!

May many more friendly crawlies, arachnid pets and clawbugs be with us,

and a big kiss to those who have left our boards!

Live interesting lives and prosper!

I got yelled at for making wild things happen. And so did Upon Mars. And HH got more than one earful about the way he was posting, one such from myself... sorry hare. I think there was too much "that can't happen" instead of taking what was written and moving forward with it; events were either ignored or changed or both. Then it didn't help that key players stopped posting.

 

I agree, also, that the 'vague hints' didn't help. I cornered Sylae to ask what her big post meant but it was probably something that should have been disclosed in the ooc so that other people could run with it. The blue dot was too many things to different people because it was not defined. imho, the tardis could have been comprehended if people had asked questions about it instead of ados just changing it because he didn't like it. It was congruent with other peoples' transformations until it was changed from a transformation of tyran and nikki to the ACTUAL tardis with the ACTUAL doctor. The gremlin things was ignored as 'too confusing'.

 

I think there are two camps of writers. One that likes wild, crazy, didn't-see-that-coming things to happen, and another that likes things to be simple and planned and sensible. Put those camps together in an RP and you invariably pit them against one another.

Although I was upset by certain things which happened namely that I discovered that the Tardis was a spiderweb forum member, I still enjoyed some aspects of this: I didn't feel that people where being pushed out of the story (actually Captain, although at first ignored was quite well integrated into the tissue of the story) and I was even surprised by a few things. I just wish that something ought to be rewritten.

If the gremlin thing was ignored I don't believe it was good or bad, or even out of place. I just offered a way to plan the eventual rescue of a character at the hands of a dinosaur. And not necessarily a raptor.

Also I'd like to point out that we could consider whether or not we should first start with a defined beginning and ending, knowing how the story is going to end. That could put more impetus in the Spiderbus stories.

@Jewels I don't consider being a wild writer, even though I'm writing a book with a narrator who is both authoritarian and conservative. I certainly don't agree with this line of thought.

Also Student, sensible doesn't need to be boring.